LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

~^^^^ 



Shelf ...-H^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



A MIDNIGHT RACE 



# # # A MIDNIGHT 
RACE##ByB.P.Shil 

LABER ILLUSTRATED # 




PRIVATELY 
PRINTED 



BOSTON ® TICKNOR AND 
CO # MDCCCLXXXVIII 



,MAV 






~ / 



-f^ 



n^ 



Copyig'^'-' '^^ 
BY ASA P. POTTER 

All rights reserved 



TRESS OF 
KOCKWELL AND CHUKCUIUL 
BOSTON, U.S.A. 




IT 



ILLUSTRATIONS, 



SKETCHED FROM NATURE BY F. MYRICK. 



OuiNCY Station. 



QuiNCY Bridge. 



The Point Proposed." 



Gushing House. 



The White Horse Asleep. 
Ears and Tail down. 

The White Horse Awake. 
Surprise Number One. 

"A Phantom Figure." 

Surprise Nuuiber Two. 

No Stop for Refreshments. 



Old Colony Hill. 



"Jerusalem, my Happy Home." 



The Finish. 



Triumph ! 

Ears and Tail up. 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



BY B. P. SHILLABER. 



Those who reside at Jerusalem, 
Among suburban towns a gem 

In Boston's regal crown, 
Sometimes, through politics or fun 
Or other cause, when day is done, 
No matter what, the fleet hours run 

And they're delayed in town, 
Until they every muscle strain 
With eager, business-crowded brain 
To catch the latest Quincy train 

Which is to take them down. 

Now this same fate to four befell 
(Once on a time, as we've "heard tell"). 
Banking, or Law, or Keal Estate 
Had wearied them with pressure great. 
For whom the quick day wouldn't wait. 



i 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



And so prolonged their stay till late, 

Away from home's delights ; 
Took Moore's advice, who wisely says 
The very best way to lengthen our days 

Is to take a slice from our nights. 

But well the loitering Brahmin knew 

There waited him, at Quincy, two 

Of the finest steeds that ever flew 

O'er country roads, that would put them through ; 

So when, at ten, they lighted 
At Quincy station, there they found 
The prancing span that pawed the ground 
And neighed with most impatient sound. 

To greet the ones benighted. 
With a fine wagon, light and trim, 
Over the South Shore roads to skim ; 
And as the Brahmin and those with him 
Stepped into the team by the station's glim 

They felt delay requited. 

And there beyond was another team, 
Seen by the same light's steady gleam, 
That any one with a horse might deem 

The o'host of an ancient steed. 
Of ghastly superhuman Avhite, 
With drooping head, as if the light 
Were painful to his dimming sight. 

Which might for pity plead ; 
Long for usefulness given o'er, 
His hold to life frail tenure wore, 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



A charger gone to seed. 
To the horse was hitched an ancient dray 
As frail as the Deacon's one-hoss shay 
On the morn of Lisbon's earthquake day, 

With a harness of rusty leather, 
Which looked as though, in a primitive way, 
It had served in Governor Carver's day. 
And to keep it from falling all astray 

It v^as tied with thongs together. 

And then a voice came out of the dark 
That none but the driver's ear could hark ; 
"Those coursers must be beaten, mark. 

If it costs a hundred dollars." 
" Aye, aye, sir," was whispered back again. 
Away went the thousand-dollar twain. 
With Archie holding the bridle rein. 
The old horse started to life again. 
And dashed ahead at a lively strain. 
Leaving it at the outset plain 

He wasn't a horse that "foUars." 

Through Quincy town, o'er Quincy bridge, 
They cleft the darkness like a wedge, 
And the curiosity set on edge. 
Of people of quiet bent, 
Who peered out into the night to see 
What the cause of the rush might be. 
If the witches were back to Old Colony, 
Or what the deuce it meant. 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



On went the mysterious flight, 

The old horse with his coat of white 

Making a mark on the slate of night, 

Like thing of ghostly dread. 
And Archie plied the vigorous thong. 
To urge the thoroughbreds along, 
And they showed their mettle fleet and strong, 

But the white was still ahead. 

" This is a dark case,'''' Blackstone cried, 

Holding in place his jellying hide, 

His lofty broAV of margin wide, 

Feeling the air that rushed like a tide ; 

" A quo warranto should this matter decide, 

And secure a stay of proceeding ; 
But, my dear Brahmin, inter nos. 
This race in re mayn't be in pos.. 
For us it threatens to be a loss 
Through that infernal old white hoss 

That our advance is leading. 
De jure, we the race have won, 
'Gainst such a monstrous beast to run, 
But yet, de facto, 'tisn't done. 
And we shall have to stand the fun 

Spite of all our special pleading." 

" Wait," said the Brahmin, " yonder hill 
Will give the blasted beast his fill. 
Archie, now put in with a will. 

Keep right close to his heels." 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



Uphill and downhill then they tore, 
Such speed had ne'er been known before, 
Along that favored southern shore, 

As record ne'er reveals. 
" Give 'em the whip," the Brahmin cried, 
But all in vain the string he plied, 
He couldn't urge the span beside 

The shaky wagon wheels. 

But when diverging roads they reach. 
One leading down to Downer's beach. 
The Brahmin, with exultant speech, 

"We'll go by then," he said, 
" And we will into Hingham go 
(Lay on the Avhip and prove it so). 

At least ten rods ahead." 

Then on they dashed through thick and thin. 

Waking strange echoes by their din. 

In hope the distant goal to win. 

The stars looked down with a seeming grin, 

The stirring scene to share. 
When as they neared the " point proposed," 
A phantom figure was disclosed. 
And like our "flag," as sung and prosed, 

The old white horse was " there." 

They kept right on as at the start, 

The heads of the span o'er the tail of the cart, 

The latter creaking in every part, 

The road before them a hidden chart. 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



On through the darkness pushing, 
Until burst on their path a light, 
And a crowd, of gazers came in sight 
(Who'd got a hint of the wondrous flight). 

In front of Hotel de Gushing, 
As the sightly team and the rattle trap, 
With the Brahmin and Blackstone and t'other chap, 

Went by the hotel rushing. 

They sped away o'er Colony Hill, 

The ghostly whitey leading still, 

Down through the swamp, with ardent will, 

Down where the salamanders dwell, 

Down 'mong the summering squatters; 
"They've bought that horse," the Brahmin said. 
As he wiped the night dew from his head, 
"And we are left, our courage fled. 

Like clay in the hands of the potters." 

Now they had reached the old thatched gate. 
The white horse stood their coming to wait. 
Who held up his head as if elate. 
That he'd led the span in contest straight 

Full thirty-five minutes from starting. 
Then the Brahmin smiled and glumly said, 
"If the brothers had driven their plugs instead 
Of that old frame that is almost dead, 

'Twould have had a better imparting." 

Now all can see, as is often shown, 

Where wills are threatened and overthrown, 



A MIDNIGHT RACE. 



That " undue influence " alone 

Could prompt to their preparing. 

And here the hundred-dollar fee 

Prompted the nag's cupidity ; 

For in those who neither feel nor see 

The dollars' chink awakes esprit., 

Which makes all possible to be, 

And the nag, this feeling sharing, 

Resj)onded to the magic tone 

Of stimulus round money thrown. 

And went it with full hand alone 

As those in euchre daring. 

And thus the race should not be claimed 
For the old steed, spavined, blind, and lamed ; 
The good steeds, in their status famed. 
For no vile failure should be blamed 

Like this we've given place ; 
But still the cunning ones will chaff 
And at the striking statement laugh. 
That an old nag, dead more than half, 

Should have won the midnight race. 



